


A Tool's Despair

by Oatsotas



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Heroine's Journey, Hiding in Plain Sight, Loneliness, Peko is on a mission, Sort Of, Tools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oatsotas/pseuds/Oatsotas
Summary: Tools don't feel despair. They're objects, unfeeling. They exist as they're told to. So when Junko starts causing Peko's classmates to fall into despair, she knows that she's the only one who can protect Fuyuhiko. Of course, that's not always as easy as it seems.Or, a bleak look at an alternate way Peko and Fuyuhiko went from despair to the simulation.





	A Tool's Despair

Tools can't fall into despair. They're inanimate, unfeeling. They exist to be used and nothing else. So Peko never truly fell into the clutches of Junko Enoshima as her classmates did.

It's unfortunate, then, that tools can do nothing on their own. They sit idle until needed. So that's what Peko did. She sat and watched as, one-by-one, each of her classmates dropped into that hazy despair-induced state.

Though if she was being honest with herself at the time, she only cared about whether her young master caved. He was stubborn and strong-willed to be sure, but he was also plagued with self-doubt and conflict over his position as a yakuza. And Junko Enoshima knew it from the moment she laid eyes on him.

From that point, Peko did everything in her power to keep Fuyuhiko away from the madwoman. She would suggest alternate routes that avoided Junko's usual posts; she would find jobs for them to do for the clan that meant Fuyuhiko couldn't be in school; there were even times when she'd request "supplements" from a former Ultimate Pharmacist that would -unforeseeably, of course- not mix well with whatever Fuyuhiko ate, causing him to be ill and miss school. Perhaps that's not what a tool should do, but her duty was to protect the young master and she'd go to any lengths necessary to do so.

It's a wonder, then, that Junko never caught on. Looking back, it's obvious she did. It's obvious that Junko was planning to use Fuyuhiko to send Peko into despair from the start. That much became clear when Fuyuhiko returned from his outing with Kazuichi.

"Do what you want today," he had told her. "Goin' out with Souda."

"Ah, young master, I-"

He held a hand up. "Whatever you're about to say, I don't fucking care. You've been working hard lately. Take a break, practice kendo, whatever."

"I still think that…" Peko trailed off, tugging at her sword bag strap.

"Hey, Peko," Fuyuhiko said, smiling that warm, boyish smile of his. "Just relax, I can't always rely on you and shit, ya know?" He nodded at her. "I'll be fine."

With that, he left her. He left her in so many ways.

She waited for him. He was hours late. When he came back to Hope's Peak, he was still smiling, but everything was wrong. He eyes were too wide, his smile too cold, his posture too relaxed. This wasn't her young master, this wasn't her Fuyuhiko.

Behind Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi had the same crazed expression. He was one of the first to fall, perhaps unsurprisingly, but he'd been ineffective in converting any of the others. Until now. That's probably why Junko picked him to disarm Fuyuhiko.

Standing by the treeline, Peko saw Junko and her sister, Mukuro. They did nothing but watch. They knew what was about to happen. Or so they thought. Peko was a good tool. She knew how to act the part. Emphasis on act.

"Young master, are you alright?!" Peko had said, running to him.

For a moment, Fuyuhiko said nothing. Then, he jerked his head with such ferocity Peko thought he would snap it. Then he slapped her across the face. "Did I say you could speak, Tool?"

"I-"

Another slap, this one followed by a punch to Peko's gut. She'd taken harder hits, but none had been - or ever will be - as painful as that one punch. She instantly dropped to one knee, cradling her stomach. "That's fucking better," Fuyuhiko said. "Tools should know their place." He put his foot against her shoulder. "Feel that? That creeping feeling as you remember your place? You're nothing, Tool, nothing. You've never been anything, not to the family, not to your classmates, not to the world, and certainly not to fucking  _ me _ ."

His words were like blades piercing her very flesh. Each one driving and twisting and mangling, cutting to the bone and then sawing through it. From the corner of her eye, Peko could see Kazuichi laughing while Junko stared back with a cocky expression.

"Look at me, Tool," Fuyuhiko spat. Peko obeyed. His face still had that distorted smile to it. "You feel this? This despair? It's intoxicating isn't it? And to think, I stayed away from booze and shit for years only to be rewarded with something better!" He snatched Peko's cheeks. "Come on, Tool, join me and the others. We'll spread this glorious feeling to the rest of the world!"

The act began. Peko let her arms drop, let her face relax into a demented smile. "Yes, young master."

She could hear Junko "hmph" in delight, and Peko watched her leave, visions of envicersating the young fashionista in every conceivable manner flashing before Peko's eyes.

A student of the reserve course had happened to be passing by that day.

"Tool," Fuyuhiko spat, "Kill it."

Without a moment's hesitation, Peko drew her sword, the bamboo seeming to fall away, leaving only the shiny steel blade.

"Yes, young master."

 

-

 

She opens her eyes. The sky is the same color as them, blood red and violent. Meditation is traditionally used as a focusing technique, a way to clear the mind from the distractions of the world.

Peko uses it to reflect on that day. To remind her why she keeps up the charade.

Strewn around her are the scattered body parts of what was once the Kuzuryuu clan. Those that didn't immediately acquiesce to Fuyuhiko and his group were slaughtered without mercy. Such is the way of the world now. Of course, Peko had the highest body count. She admits that she took particular pleasure in gutting an enforcer that had long been harassing her. Perhaps she did fall into despair after all.

"Hey boss," one of Fuyuhiko's minions shouts, "Your old man is back!"

"Then get in your fucking position," Fuyuhiko barks. "Tool, get up and get ready!"

"Yes, young master." Peko rises. She lets her sword clatter to the ground, tries to restrain a wince. Nothing would cause her more despair than her blade turning against her because of her disrespect towards it, so that's the part she has to play.

She moves through the house she's known since she was young. Despite living here for so long, she's always felt like an intruder. At least it makes defiling the home that much easier.

Her goal is the Kuzuryuu's master bedroom, specifically the artifact hanging above the bed.

A gunshot rings in her ear. Immediately, she drops low, then identifies where the shot came from. By the bed, a man desperately tries to reload his gun. His arm is bleeding as is his shoulder. He'd clearly been involved in the fighting earlier and managed to scurry his way here. Coward. Peko doesn't recognize him, so he's probably a new recruit.

"G-get the fuck away, you psychos!" The man shrieks. "This isn't what I fucking signed up for."

Peko regards him for a moment. He's rather pathetic, can't even load his gun properly with how much his hands shake. It wouldn't be hard for Peko to simply walk over and snap the poor man's neck. 

Instead, she kicks the gun from his hand and claps her own hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out. "Listen to me," she says. "Head out the east wing through the garden. There is a false panel in the fence by the only bunch of orchids. You can escape through there."

Peko stands. The man opens his mouth, then closes it when he sees Peko's harsh glare. Without another word, he flees the room. All she can do is hope his luck holds out. There shouldn't be anyone on the east side, but there's always the possibility.

The sound of gunshots from the east side tell  her that she was wrong. She puts in her hands together in a small prayer for the man.

Fuyuhiko will be wondering where she is soon, so she sets to her task. Hanging above the Kuzuryuu heads' bed is an ornate scabbard housing the family blade. The blade has been passed from leader to leader of the clan for many generations. Each generation of  _ oyabun  _ is required to make their first kill upon assuming the title with that blade. Peko wonders if Fuyuhiko would have been able to do it.

She draws the blade from its holding. Perfectly balanced, kept in immaculate condition despite the years, the sword practically sings in Peko's hands. The irony being, of course, that she was never meant to touch the blade, as if her very skin would stain the honor of it. All part of the despair. A tool desecrating the most sacred treasure.

Even now, she feels as if she should drop the blade and use her own to cut off the tips of her fingers as penance. But this is something she needs to do. Until she can figure out a way to get Fuyuhiko back, she needs to do this.

"Tool! Where the fuck are you?!" Fuyuhiko screams, his voice echoing through the house.

Hurriedly, Peko returns to the main courtyard of the house. What greets her is a plan gone horribly right. The current heads of the Kuzuryuu family, Fuyuhiko's mother and father, kneel on the hard stone. All around them are their guards as well as some of Fuyuhiko's men. Blood floods the grounds. On the stairs leading to the house, the man from the bedroom's head sits like a macabre jack-o-lantern.

"The fuck took you so long?" Fuyuhiko says. When Peko doesn't respond, Fuyuhiko raises his fist as if to strike.

"I was dealing with this man," she says simply, gesturing to the man.

"Well you did a hell of job," he mocks, "We caught him fucking running around to the east side. You know there's an escape route there, don't you, bitch?!"

"It gave him hope."

"What?"

Peko lets her mouth form into a tiny, sickening smile. "It gave him hope. I knew you had men there. He thought he could escape, but he was trapped from the start."

For a moment, Fuyuhiko does nothing. Then he laughs. Oh God does he laugh. A twisted, disgusting laugh that makes Peko want to vomit. "Fucking right! That's fucking good, Tool! Gotta remember that one!"

"Fuyuhiko, what is the meaning of this?" his father roars.

The interruption stops Fuyuhiko's laughter. He turns to his parents. "Change in leadership, Old Man. The world's fucking changing. We need someone who's gonna show this clan the right way. No more trying to protect the people of Japan or any of that other bullshit!" Fuyuhiko wrenches his family's sword from Peko's hands, cutting her palm as he does so. "My first kill as  _ oyabun _ ."

With one clean stroke, he slits his mother's throat. She collapses onto the ground, a gurgling mess. Peko feels no misery at her loss. She was a shrill woman who let the illusion of power offered to her by her husband go to her head far too many times.

Fuyuhiko stands in front of his father. "Well, Old Man, guess it's your fucking turn, huh?"

The senior Kuzuryuu doesn't flinch, his gaze steady and hard. "Such is the life I have chosen. Proceed, if you actually believe you are capable."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Fuyuhiko strikes his father with the butt of the sword. The man hardly seems to register the blow. "Oh, is that how you fucking want it?" He turns to Peko. "Tool, kill it."

At that, the old man's eyes widen. "You would not dare deny me the honor of dying by my own family's hand."

Silently, Peko takes the blade from Fuyuhiko. As she does so, Fuyuhiko says, "She doesn't listen you. She's  _ my  _ tool. She does what  _ I  _ tell her."

"Yes, young master," Peko responds. Surprisingly, the blade feels heavy in her hands. This man may have trained her to be nothing but the mindless tool she is now, but he also took her in when she had nowhere else. Instead of being left in a back alley to die, he gave her a place. Maybe not a place to call home, but a place by Fuyuhiko's side, and there's nowhere she'd rather be.

Fuyuhiko cackles, the rest of his crew joining in. "Look at this fucking despair! Look at it! This is all your fucking fault, Old Man. You fucking took this tool in and now she's gonna be the last thing you see!"

Peko eyes the man one final time. His eyes hold the same warmth that Fuyuhiko's once did. Did he go through the same trials as Fuyuhiko, doubting, wondering? Perhaps that's why when the Tragedy broke free from Hope's Peak he was among the first to mobilize to try and quash it. Guilt, or genuine care even.

She gives him a clean death, one strike. His body remains upright, his blood stains the blade crimson.

 

-

 

It's been half a year since the Tragedy started. Her blade has killed so many that she doesn't bother keeping track. Each one a command from her young master. As a tool, it's her duty to fulfill his every request.

They're camping out in a small shack that they "borrowed" from its previous occupant, a hermit couple trying to live off the grid.

None could ever truly escape the despair they wrought.

With the rest of Fuyuhiko's men patrolling the woods, her young master has taken to dozing lightly on the rickety bed. Peko guards the door. There's no others he trusts to guard him personally and for good reason. At least three attempts have been made on his life by those under his command. They were fools. Fuyuhiko saw through their lies and honeyed words. Peko's sword is faster than any of them could hope to pull a trigger.

It's a miracle, then, that Fuyuhiko hasn't seen through her charade.

It kills her inside. Every day is agony to watch the young man she grew up with, the young man who would lead his family to even greater heights, become some pawn in Junko Enoshima's game.

She reaches inside the pocket of her pants, grabs a smooth silver locket. Fuyuhiko had caught her admiring it one day while they were still just normal students at Hope's Peak. The very next day it had been on her bed, wrapped in a pleasant ribbon. Fuyuhiko denied that he bought it, even more so when Peko tried to assure him that tools don't need such baubles.

He had just told her stop fucking with him and put the damn thing on.

Peko smiles and clicks the locket open. Inside is a picture of Fuyuhiko and and Ibuki. The musician got Fuyuhiko to pull some strings and let her perform at a yakuza event. How she managed to pull that off, Peko has no idea. Though maybe Ibuki had been on to something. Leave it to a bunch of yakuza to adore Ibuki's music and demand that she return at least once a week.

Ibuki's most recent concert ruptured the eardrums of 30,000 people.

Peko snaps the locket shut and glances around the room. No sign of disturbance. No lights flickering around outside. The only movement is Fuyuhiko's careful breath as he falls deeper and deeper asleep. The clock on the wall reads 2:43 a.m. She was supposed to wake him up 13 minutes ago.

It's not her place to disobey, but he hasn't been sleeping well, often only one or two hours a night. Maybe he just wants to create as much despair as possible, maybe he's plagued by nightmares. She can't know. She never asks, never speaks unless ordered to do so. Like a good tool.

He's practically been sleepwalking these past few weeks, so the extra sleep will do him well. She has to protect him, and that includes from himself. Worst comes to worst, she can play it off as despair-inducing that his most faithful tool betrayed him on such a minor request. He'll eat that right up.

Sometimes she wonders if she could just mercy kill him.

Peko shakes her head and moves to the window. There's a layer of permafrost on the ground and the spot is chilly, but bracing. After doubling checking to make sure there's no unnecessary movement outside, Peko resumes her watch.

However, before she can, she catches a glimpse of her reflection. Her hair is growing so long. Fuyuhiko had ordered her to let it down from her braids, said it made her look too childish, too harmless. He wants a hitwoman for a tool, and she has to look the part.

That's also why he bought her this suit. Well, "bought" might not be the correct word. It was more like he held the tailor at gunpoint while the woman custom made the suit.

Once she finished, he shot her. Peko has to double check whether the blood on the suit is a stain or if she's just imagining it. Again.

Snowflakes begin to fall from the sky, clinging to the window for an infinitely small moment before disappearing. Peko tugs her jacket closer in. She'll need to find a winter coat of some sort. Boots, too. Cars aren't always an option anymore and Fuyuhiko is adamant that the gang keep moving to spread the despair as far as possible.

With the sixteen of them who are still active, it's a wonder Japan hasn't already collapsed entirely.

Rustling, behind her. Peko draws her blade and is by Fuyuhiko's side in an instant. Fortunately, the sound was just Fuyuhiko jerking awake. Peko returns her sword as Fuyuhiko rubs his eyes.

"Mmm, hey, Peko, gimme some water, yeah?" he says, voice heavy with sleep.

Taking pause at the use of her name, Peko nonetheless manages to smile and say, "Yes, of course, young master."

The two say nothing as Peko dips a ceramic cup into a bucket of boiled water and hands it to Fuyuhiko. He drinks it down in two gulps, then burps. His table manners always have been atrocious.

Allowing herself to revel in the silence of normalcy, Peko quietly holds some hope that perhaps the brainwashing was temporary, that whatever Kazuichi said or did has worn off.

She tries not to let her crushed spirit show when Fuyuhiko snaps his head towards Peko and chucks the cup at her. It's easy enough to dodge. It shatters on the wall.

"Fucking useless… I told you to wake me up two fucking hours ago, shit for brains!"

As planned, Peko simply responds with her bit about despair and quells Fuyuhiko's anger.

Within minutes, the two have gathered what they need and Fuyuhiko has sent out the signal for his crew to regroup.

"Hey, Tool," he spits. "Don't ever fucking pull shit like that again. I'll kill you."

Peko simply nods. "Yes, young master."

 

-

 

"Fucking cover us you goddamn pieces of shit!"

"But boss we-"

"Use your fucking bodies!"

Bullets explode from guns. The world jerks through Peko's bleary eyes. Soldiers on all sides scream orders. And Fuyuhiko is running with Peko in his arms. Blood trails the ground. Peko's blood.

Munakata, the damn former Ultimate Class President, he's good with a sword. Peko was better. She gave him a parting gift in the form of nearly severing one of Juzo's arms and Munakata's shoulder in one swing. They had both retreated.

None of that stopped the bleeding from the gash in Peko's stomach.

With each step that Fuyuhiko takes pain courses down Peko's side. Her head is faint and her vision blurred. She can't tell if she has her glasses on or not.

The running stops. Fuyuhiko dumps Peko onto a ratty mattress. They must be in the abandoned building that's served as their hideout for the past few weeks.

"Fuck fuck fuck, shit shit shit!" Fuyuhiko mutters under his breath. He lifts Peko's shirt to reveal the wound, then starts digging around the place to find anything that could stop the bleeding.

As he searches, Peko touches the wound. It's deep, but ultimately it didn't cut into any vital organs. Of course, none of that helps when she's practically bleeding out onto this mattress.

A few minutes or a few hours pass (Peko can't tell) and then Fuyuhiko returns with a mass of assorted medical equipment. Peko knows from the scavenging she's done that they don't have any sort of antiseptic nor does Fuyuhiko know how to stitch a wound.

"Hang on, Tool, just hang fucking on!" Fuyuhiko shouts, his voice hoarse. He's clumsily pouring water over the wound, patting it dry. He tries to tie a bandage around it, but the blood just soaks through. "FUCK!"

Peko opens her mouth, but good tools keep silent unless otherwise told. Whether or not this Fuyuhiko is the one she knows, he is still her master and he has not given her permission to speak.

Then again, tools should never make assumptions about what their master wants. Fuyuhiko suddenly shouts, "What, Peko, what? What the fuck do you want?!"

"L-let me d-die," she says.

"What?!"

She's always been prepared for this moment. Munakata had been aiming for Fuyuhiko. Cut off the head and the rest of the body stops, after all. But there's one order that supersedes all others. Protect Fuyuhiko, even at the cost of her own life. Once she's done that, she is useless.

"I've serv-served my purpose, you are safe," Peko manages before groaning in pain.

"Fucking hell… What the fuck?!" Fuyuhiko stands up and storms around the room for a few minutes, swearing all the while. Eventually, however, he pulls out a cell phone. "Yeah, it's me. Get Tsumiki here, right fucking now!"

There's silence for a moment and Peko briefly wonders if she can reach her sword and stab herself if only to stop the agony.

"Nidai, listen to me." Fuyuhiko punctuates each statement with a hand gesture and a popping vein. "I don't fucking care what kinda despair you're causing right now. I need Tsumiki. And I need her right. Fucking. NOW!" He snaps the phone shut then slams it on the ground. "Fucking asshole. Won't get Tsumiki to fix my fucking tool." 

He returns to Peko's side. "W-why?" she asks. "My purpose is done?"

Fuyuhiko tries to grin, but each time he does, the corners of his mouth falls again. Eventually, he just turns away and says, "For your despair or some shit…"

Walking over to a low lawn chair, Fuyuhiko drags it next to Peko and sits. From where Peko's laying, it almost looks like he's a pouting child. She doesn't make a comment when he lets his arm fall and cover her hand with his.

Inwardly, Peko smiles to herself. There'd been no way Fuyuhiko could have saved her without Mikan, and his despair-riddled self wouldn't have allowed him to ask for help. A little reverse-psychology did the trick.

While it's true that Peko exists to serve and should only listen to her master's orders, that one order that is above all else, that protection order, it's in play right now. She eyes her own phone, waiting, hoping, that the text will come in soon, that his plan will be ready and she'll be able to finally have a chance to end this.

The last thing she sees before she loses consciousness is three of her former classmates running towards her, all with despairing grins on their twisted faces.

Not long now. Not long until they're all cured.

 

-

 

Picking through the rubble of their old school leaves Peko feeling just a touch nostalgic. They're currently in the basement that used to house the old washing machines before they were moved to the first floor so they could be closely monitored. She can remember the time that Kazuichi's tinkering flooded the entire basement to the point of it being unusable for almost a month.

It's just she and Fuyuhiko this time. He's grown paranoid over these last few months. She's killed just about everyone who once followed him. Of course, he keeps saying it's all for despair. The despair of paranoia, the despair of watching your guards killed by the one you trust most. How long, she wonders, until he feels the need to say the only despair he needs is in killing her?

Her hand hovers over her phone. She prays every day for the text to finally come in. All she needs is one word and she'll be able to help Fuyuhiko.

"Gotta fucking find her, gotta fucking find her…" Fuyuhiko mutters ahead of Peko. He's practically trembling.

Peko knows exactly who they're looking for. She'd been in the room when Fuyuhiko cried out for Junko as she was crushed underneath her own trap. Such despair. How Peko had laughed and laughed. But not for the same reason as the rest. As the rest laughed through the sheer ecstasy of their despair, she laughed because the one who did this to her Fuyuhiko and to her… friends, she could have called them, is dead. Dead and gone forever.

Which makes the trek to find her body all the more painful. The darkness of the hallway seems to seep into Peko's pristine white suit. A fly gets tangled in her hair. Her glasses are too small for her face now. Her sword screeches as she drags it along the concrete. She hopes it shatters.

"Almost there," Fuyuhiko says, solemn.

Indeed, she can see a light ahead, as well as several bodies. Her fellow former classmates. As they reach the execution chamber, Peko has to hold her breath to keep from vomiting. She's long gotten used to the scent of blood and rot, but the smell in the room is so overwhelmingly evil that Peko almost wants to leave.

Fuyuhiko, for his part, seems unaffected. The others in the room, Gundham, Mikan, and Hiyoko seem to be scavenging around for the body of their diseased mistress.

In the corner, a group of rats and other small animals seem to be devouring something. In the past, Peko might have tried to approach or pet them, but these beasts are as feral as their master. "Feed on her, my minions," Gundham intones, "Feel her great despair course through you, for we will wreak havoc upon this plane with her flesh empowering us!"

Some things never change.

On the other side, Mikan wails what little is left of Junko's body. Hiyoko kicks and scratches at Mikan. "Stupid, useless pig barf. Put her back together. What good are you?!"

Some things  _ really  _ never change.

Having lost track of Fuyuhiko, Peko scans the room. She finds him on the north end, holding something.

"Hey, Tool, c'mere," he orders, so Peko obeys. As she gets closer, she finally can see what he's holding. An eye. Though not just any eye, the eye of Junko Enoshima. "She saw something in you," Fuyuhiko says.

Peko takes the liberty of looking appropriately confused. Though she knows what he's talking about. She's ran through that fateful day enough times to be all too familiar with what he's talking about.

"That day back at Hope's Peak, when Souda showed me the way. Fuck, that was a good day." He grins, hideous and virulent. "I saw when Enoshima looked at you. She was fucking satisfied, alright, but there was something else."  
Suddenly, Fuyuhiko's face is in hers. "But I don't know what the fuck it was…" he whispers. "I can't see."  
He backs down. Peko hasn't moved.

"Hey, Tsumiki," he shouts.

"Y-yeah?" she responds, though Peko can't tell if her voice is tearful or aroused. Probably both.

"Think you could put this thing in me?" Fuyuhiko says.

It takes all of Peko's willpower not to try to knock the eye from Fuyuhiko's hand and stomp it with her heel. She doesn't like where this is going.

"A p-part of Mistress? I-in you?!" Mikan shrieks. She tugs at her hair, then is eerily calm. "Yes… yes I can do that… But I need space. Space space space space!"

Fuyuhiko turns back to Peko. "Tool, cut my eye out."

Peko's grip tightens on her sword, but she doesn't move. Cut his eye out? Can she do such a thing? It… it goes against everything she is. To harm her young master, she would violate everything it means to be his tool. No, no amount of despair -real or fake- would ever be worth such a violation.

"Did you fucking hear me, Tool?" Fuyuhiko bites, slapping Peko across the face. "I said fucking cut my damn eye out or I'll do it myself! Then you'll really be useless."

All eyes are on Peko. Even Gundham's animals have stopped their feast to watch the spectacle.

All eyes, silent, urging, demanding.

All eyes, even Junko's stares at her.

All eyes, her own locked with Fuyuhiko's.

His eyes, blank and cold.

His eye, quivering and ready.

Her eyes, flashing down to her sword.

Her mouth, "Yes, young master."

A guttural, animalistic scream escapes.

Her blade, dripping with his blood.

Her purpose, forever soiled.

Mikan hurries everyone from the room so that she can operate quickly. Gundham and Hiyoko glance back as they go to leave, evil smiles plastered on their faces. They say something, but all Peko can hear is Fuyuhiko's cries and Mikan's giggles.

The surgery takes hours. When it's done, Mikan leaves the room, an orgasmic look on her face. She seems to shiver as she walks, her knees weak and her tongue lolling from her mouth. 

Peko tries not to vomit.

"He's asleep," Mikan says, her voice a thousand years away. "Keep an… keep an  _ eye  _ on him! Hahahaha!"

With that, Mikan disappears into the darkness. Peko rushes to Fuyuhiko's side. His face is impossibly swollen and stitches run rampant over his soft features.

Tears prick in Peko's eyes. How could she let this happen? How could a tool dedicated to protecting its master be so useless at her job?

Peko tucks her legs in close to her body and rests a hand on Fuyuhiko's chest. It rises and falls evenly. He'll be fine, she tells herself, he'll be fine. The plan will go ahead and everything will be… will be alright.

Putting her head between her legs, Peko lets out a long wail, one filled with hopelessness and despair.

 

-

 

They're in a store a month and a half later when she gets the text. It's an old optometrist's office, as evidenced by the pictures of smiling people putting on glasses. She can really start the plan at any time, but she needs the right moment, the moment that Fuyuhiko will let his guard down just enough.

The moment that she can will herself to harm him once again.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Fuyuhiko shouts at the bumbling man working behind the counter, a gun held to the poor man's head.

"I'm s-s-sorry, s-sir, th-this takes time!"

"Feh, whatever, just get them fucking done."

Perhaps ironically, Peko and Fuyuhiko had been in this office for the very reason it had been designed. For the past few weeks, Peko had gotten headaches daily. Coupled with eye strain and blurry vision at times, it was clear that her prescription for her glasses changed.

Spending excessive amounts of time in an apocalyptic hellscape for extended periods will do that, she's sure.

She had said nothing to Fuyuhiko, naturally. He had picked up on it in that unique way of his. Even before he fell into despair, he was always keen on her moods. Maybe he was paying more attention to her than she thought.

Still, he needed a tool that works properly, so they managed to track down one of the few remaining people who could perform her exam and craft her new glasses. Said man was now being held at Fuyuhiko's gunpoint as he worked.

Peko looks at her phone one more time. One brilliant message gleams up at her. "Go."

She looks back to Fuyuhiko and swallows hard. This isn't going to be pleasant for him, nor for her either, but it's what she has to do if she ever wants to truly fulfill her duty to protect her young master.

No, it's more than that. She wants to help Fuyuhiko, she needs to. She needs to get her gentle-hearted boy back. For all of his threats and blustering, Fuyuhiko was a kind young man, compassionate even. He never took advantage of Peko, always tried to give her time off. Hell, his ignoring her at the beginning of school may have been his attempt at letting her discover herself.

Herself. She's never really thought about herself independently from him. Perhaps that's been the only glimmer of silver lining in this horrific storm of despair. Or perhaps it's just been a distraction and the reason she can't just go forward with the plan.

"H-here, s-sir, I'm finished," the man says.

Fuyuhiko yanks the glasses from the man's hand and examines them for a moment.

"N-now I-I can, go, yes? That was our deal?"

"Our deal? Our fucking deal?" Fuyuhiko turns to the man with a snide grin. "I don't remember any fucking deal?" He levels the gun at the man's head, who falls from his chair and slams his eyes shut, crying out in fear. "This is what I fucking think of our -urgh!"

Fuyuhiko never finishes his sentence. The gun clatters to the ground. Then Fuyuhiko.

Behind him, Peko stands, the  _ kashira  _ of her handle dripping a bit of blood.

"Wh-what?" the man says.

"Go," Peko orders, her voice surprisingly strong considering how little she's used it these past couple of years. "There is a stash of food and clean water two miles north of here. You will see an old statue, underneath that."

The man scurries off, navigating the ruins with the expertise of a survivor. Peko can only hope that she didn't send another off to his death.

Squatting down, she examines Fuyuhiko's head wound. Not too deep, though forming a nasty swell. Just as she'd intended. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a length of rope, quickly tying Fuyuhiko in a way so that she can carry him, but he won't escape.

Once finished, she manages to heft Fuyuhiko onto her shoulder. He's heavier than he used to be, she notes. Lean muscle from all of the travelling, must be.

With practiced efficiency, Peko begins the trek towards the harbor. This simple plan had been hatched months ago, the first time she and Fuyuhiko had met Izuru Kamakura.

She could tell simply from the way he looked at her that he knew she was different. He knew she wasn't a true member of despair. He also knew every one of  her crimes, though he seemed indifferent towards those.

He hadn't said much to Fuyuhiko's chagrin (and foul mouth), but when Fuyuhiko eventually tired himself out and nodded off to sleep, Izuru spoke to Peko.

He spoke of an experiment he was going to run, The Future Foundation, the few that Peko could trust, of an elaborate plan to test whether hope or despair would win out once and for all.

Largely, Peko hadn't cared about any of that. What she had cared about was the chance that Izuru offered. The chance that Fuyuhiko may be cured of his condition, or, at least, set on the road to recovery. It wasn't guaranteed, but it was the hope that had carried Peko for these last few months.

Her role in the plan was simple; she was to subdue Fuyuhiko and bring him to the harbor near Towa city for transport to Jabberwock Island. The Future Foundation would have a boat ready to take them.

A little less than an hour into her hike, Peko could see the harbor in the distance. It would probably be another hour of walking and then there was the hassle of making sure she could actually get to the harbor without being spotted by the sentries of despair stationed there.

"So that's where we're fucking going," Fuyuhiko's voice suddenly rings out in the silence causing Peko to jump. "What's wrong, Tool? Scared? Tools don't get fucking scared." Fuyuhiko laughs, painfully, right in Peko's ear.

Deciding that ignoring him would be the best option, Peko continues to trudge towards her goal. Fuyuhiko doesn't really seem to struggle all that much. In fact, he mostly just makes conversation and mocks Peko.

Eventually however, they get close enough to the harbor that his motormouth will become a distraction. She sets him on the ground and rolls her shoulder. Her skin is slick with sweat, her breathing is labored. But she's almost there; she can see the ship that's going to take them to freedom.

"I need you to remain silent for the remainder of our journey," she says plainly.

"And why should I fucking take orders from my goddamned tool, huh?"

She hadn't expected him to give in just like that. She had an entire spiel planned out about how being betrayed like this by his own tool would give him so much despair, and that by listening to her, he'd cause himself ever  _ more  _ despair.

But she doesn't. She can't. She can't keep up this act any more.

Finding her voice, Peko says, "Because I care about you. You should be silent because I care about you more than anything in this world and I will go to the ends of it to protect you. Even from yourself."

Fuyuhiko opens his mouth but Peko is unstoppable now.

"You may or may not remember this, but you have called me by name before, even in your current state. Young master, I know you are in there. And if this all goes according to plan, then you will be how you once were." She stares at him. "Fuyuhiko, I will always protect you and I will always love you, no matter what happens."

Before he can say another word, Peko scoops him up and begins her stealthy dissent to the ship.

Fuyuhiko is quiet the entire way down.

 

-

 

It's late by the time the Future Foundation and Izuru get all of the Remnants of Despair into their pods. Peko is the last. For as much as this Makoto Naegi tried to convince her not to enter the simulation (we can make an AI of you, he had said), Peko was steadfast. She will enter the simulation, despite the risks.

Before she does that, she unsheathes her sword. In a way, it was never truly hers. Fuyuhiko simply never took back his family's sword after that fateful day. But it had sung for her, it had killed for her, and now it would die for her.

The waves crash against the clifface below. Peko extends the sword forward with both hands. Meticulously, she goes through her kendo forms, her body flowing from one to the other as naturally as breathing. She'd spent so many hours perfecting every facet of swordplay; there very well could be no one in the world who could match her blade to blade.

But swordplay wouldn't help her in the simulation. Nothing really would. This- this was to remember why she's gone through all of this. She swore to protect Fuyuhiko as a tool. She swore upon her very life that she'd protect him.

That isn't the promise she's going to make today.

She stops her form with a final downswing. A wave crashes. The wind howls. A storm is coming. Peko treads to the edge of the cliff. Holds out the sword. "I will save the young master," she whispers. 

That isn't good enough.

"I will save Fuyuhiko!" she shouts. She makes the promise with her heart.

Still not enough.

"I WILL SAVE FUYUHIKO!" Peko Pekoyama cries to the very heavens. That's right, Peko Pekoyama will save him. Not his tool, not his lover, her. Peko will save them all, of course, but Fuyuhiko in particular.

To seal the promise, Peko throws the sword from the cliff. Its legacy of bloodshed clatters against the rocks and is soon swallowed by the cleansing sea.

Without another word or motion or gesture, Peko heads towards the pod room, ready to face her fate.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. Another one where I'm not really sure what to classify it as, but it was fun to write. Peko might be a bit out of character, especially at the end, but eh, it was fun to explore a more expressive version of her. Also, writing despair!Fuyuhiko is hard. He feels like he's missing everything that makes him Fuyuhiko. 
> 
> As always, comments and critique are always appreciated.


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